More Than Words
by gsrshipper
Summary: Grissom and Sara discuss the progress of their relationship months after Nick's ordeal. And though he never voiced it, Grissom knew he had fallen in love. Oneshot COMPLETE. [GSR]


This story came to mind when I was thinking about how Grissom and Sara would act if they really got together off-screen. Just a simple one-shot. Reviews are greatly appreciated :). Rated T to be safe.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. The song I used in this fic is "More Than Words," performed by various singers such as BBMak, Frankie J, and Westlife. Lyrics were taken from elyrics4u.

Special thanks to ScullysEvilTwin for beta-ing. :)

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**More Than Words**

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_Saying I love you  
Is not the words I want to hear from you  
It's not that I want you  
Not to say, but if you only knew…_

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Rain pelted against the roof of his townhouse; chicken roasted in his oven.

Grissom laid idly in bed with the latest addition of his favorite forensics magazine. Many mornings started out like this. He'd come home from work, start dinner—or in his case breakfast—and depending on choice in food, he'd curl up on the bed to read if time permitting him to do so.

However, after Nick's close encounter with death, his mundane routine took a familiar, yet unexpected detour.

_Sara yawned as she padded to the doorway; she hadn't gotten sleep in days. Even after Nick was safe, she had stayed at the hospital with him, depleting her energy even more. Now, when she finally was able to hit the sack, some idiot decided to pay her a visit. 'Of all days…' she thought, completely annoyed._

_The knocking continued just as she reached the door. Cursing under her breath, she squinted through the peephole._

_Grissom._

_What the hell?_

_He was the last person she thought she'd see at her apartment again, especially after his first—and what was presumed to be last visit. She rubbed her tired eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. 'Of all days…' _

_Sara opened the door to greet a disheveled looking Gil Grissom. He looked at her thoroughly, his tired eyes mirroring her own. "Hey."_

"_Hey."_

_He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Can I come in?"_

_She stepped aside, and then closed the door behind her as he strode in. "What's up, Grissom?_

_Grissom continued to stare at her, face void of any and all emotion. His eyes darted from her eyes, to her lips, then down to her feet; it was almost like he was trying to make sure she wasn't a mirage. Without even realizing it, he took a step toward her. _

"_Griss?" Sara stared at him in confusion._

_He stopped a foot away from her and avoided her eyes, "I'm sorry, Sara."_

_Sara raised an eyebrow at him, "For what?"_

_Grissom looked so lost. He was clearly having trouble getting his words out, and his shoulders slumped slightly more than they usually did from exhaustion. "For everything," he murmured, and avoided her eyes once again._

_Sara stared at him in utter confusion._

"_I—I just want to be your friend again…"_

_She snapped out of her thoughts. 'This has to be because of the whole case with Nick,' Sara pondered tiredly. "Look Grissom, maybe you should go home and get some rest. You look exhausted."_

"_I'm—"_

"—_You don't have anything to be sorry for anything." She smiled at him sadly, "Really."_

_Surprising them both, Grissom closed the distance between them and brought Sara into an awkward hug. "It could have been you," he whispered faintly into her ear. "Life's too short, Sara. If I don't take any risks now, I'm going to regret not doing so on my deathbed."_

_Sara unknowingly rested her chin on his shoulder. "What are you saying, Grissom?"_

"_I know what to do, Sara." She pulled back from his embrace to gaze in his eyes. "I want to give us a try." _

The light sound of the rain and the smell of oven roasted chicken woke Sara up from her light sleep.

She blinked as the blurred scene around her came into focus. Her novel was open and resting on her lap, and her neck ached from falling asleep awkwardly. She looked over to her left, seeing the same figure in the same position as he was before she had fallen asleep. "Griss?"

"Hmmm?" he answered without looking up from his magazine.

"How long was I out?" Sara sat up and stretched her arms above her head.

Grissom looked over and peered at her over the rim of his glasses. "Out?"

She rolled her eyes at him, "You didn't realize I fell asleep?"

He was already buried in his magazine again, "No." He paused briefly, "Probably because you weren't snoring." His lips curved upward slightly.

"Ommph."

The magazine fell to the floor as the pillow connected with his face. Grissom threw his arms up in defense, "Sorry!"

Sara huffed, "_I_ don't snore, Griss. _You're_ the one that sleeps like an elephant!"

The magazine was in his lap again, though his time, his glasses were slightly lopsided from the impact of the pillow. "Technically, elephants don't make any noise when they sleep."

This invoked another eye roll, "Whatever. What are you reading anyway?"

Silence.

"Grissom!"

"Hmmmm?"

Sara rolled over, landing clumsily on top of him and effectively smashing his magazine between their bodies. "I _said_…what are you reading?"

He frowned at her, "I _was_ reading an interesting article about new methods of DNA collection."

Sara smirked, "Fascinating."

He raised an eyebrow at her, "Yes, it is indeed." Seeing that she was not budging, he asked rather politely, "Can I please get back to it?"

Sara, however, had other plans as she tried to crawl up his body. Before her mouth was able to connect with his neck, Grissom yelped out in pain. "Sara…Sara—your knee!"

Realizing that her knee was pressed against his crotch as well as supporting all her body weight, she hopped off him, cheeks turning red. "God Griss, I'm _so_ sorry."

He grimaced in pain and glared at her from the corner of his eyes, "It's fine."

She curled away from him and sighed. Was this what their relationship would be like however many years from now? It took them a whole week after the night he visited her to kiss; it took another month for them to have sex; and now, two months later, Sara felt like an old married couple. Granted, they weren't teenagers anymore, but it was as if they skipped the whole 'fun and wild' period of their relationship. Rolling over, she saw that his nose was buried deep within the magazine again.

He flipped the page and grinned, "I love it when I actually find an interesting article." He turned at smiled at Sara. "Usually never happens."

Love.

Sara almost scowled when realization dawned on her. In the four months they had been together, she realized that it was the first time she heard that word escape his lips. Mustering up her courage and blocking out her voice of reason she timidly whispered, "Do you love _me_?"

Grissom's eyes slowly retracted from the magazine and refocused upon her, "Excuse me?"

She continued to stare directly ahead of her, avoiding looking anywhere near his vicinity. "Because you've never voiced it."

Sighing, he threw his magazine on the nightstand. "Sara…"

"Look, Grissom—"

"—If you really need to hear it, then I'll say it, Sara," he said, cutting her off. "I love you."

Sara scowled outwardly at his insensitivity, "If I want to hear it then you'll say it!" She glared daggers at him, "It doesn't work that way!"

"What do you want me to say then?" Grissom asked, a look of confusion plastered on his face. He stared at her rather blankly.

"What are we doing Griss? We come home every morning exhausted from work, eat, and then go to bed. We've been together four months, and if my memory serves me, I've only seen you naked twice."

He stared at her impassively. Did she really think that he didn't love her? Granted, what she said was true. Though Sara had practically moved in with him, they rarely spent their nights weakening his bed and disturbing his neighbors. Work was exhausting; they both knew it as well as experienced it. Surely someone who shares his exhaustion would understand why they didn't have the time and/or energy for sex? Grissom's head swam in confusion. The first and foremost thing he loved about Sara was her ability to understand him; she shared the same job, challenged him mentally, and looked up to him. Her physical attributes—though perfect in his eyes—were merely an added bonus. His right eyebrow arched upward as he gave her the semi-smug Grissom look that he knew she loved. "What is love?"

Sara stared back, wide-eyed as he raised the other eyebrow. "If you think seeing me naked more often means that I love you more, then I'd gladly strip right now," Grissom stated bluntly.

"It's just—we aren't a normal couple, Griss." Sara shook her head, "I feel like we're ninety years old and tired of sex…when we've only screwed twice!"

Grissom's face contorted at her choice of words. "Jimmy Carter once said, 'I've looked on a lot of women with lust. I've committed adultery in my heart many times.'"

Seeing that Sara's expression didn't change, he clarified, "I see at least ten women a day that I can lust after, just because my mind is male, but it doesn't mean I can love those ten women like I love you."

He reached over and pulled her to him. Sara sighed and buried her face into the crook of his neck, "All these months, you never told me you loved me."

Grissom sighed with her, "I honestly didn't think I needed to." He shrugged and kissed the top of her head, "I guess I thought you'd figure that part out after I paid you that visit."

"I might have gone to Harvard, but they never taught us how to interpret old grumpy entomologists."

Grissom rolled his eyes even though Sara wasn't able to see the gesture. "I'm not _that_ old."

She smirked, "This coming from the man who just quoted Jimmy Carter, the 39th President."

"That doesn't mean I was there to witness his presidency," Grissom scoffed and rubbed her back soothingly.

Sara nibbled lightly on his neck and sighed, "Griss?"

"Hmmm?"

"I love you, too."

Grissom grinned, "I know. You don't have to tell me."

"I just want to reassure you," she mumbled into his neck.

Grissom let out a soft groan. Flipping her over, he tugged at her pajama top. Once it was over her head, he flung it across the room and smirked.

"I don't need reassurance; our love is more than words."

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…_How easy it would be to show me how you feel  
More than words is all you have to do to make it real  
Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me  
'Cause I'd already know._

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**End**

Again, the song I used in this fic is "More Than Words," performed by various singers such as BBMak, Frankie J, and Westlife. Lyrics were taken from elyrics4u. Not mine!

Hit the 'go' button and let me know what you think :).


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